


Part of the company

by freedomqueen



Category: Suspiria (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asexual Relationship, Character Study, F/F, Falling In Love, First Dance, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Witchcraft, Witches, at least my take on it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23060632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomqueen/pseuds/freedomqueen
Summary: Canon divergence AU | The hostile environment of 1970’s divided Berlin and the wreck The Markos Company was facing are the scenario where Madame Blanc and Susie came to understand their connection was not from the present time. Both women felt it was something too deep, rooted within them, that arbitrarily chose to flourish in that bleak moment.Through recent and older memories, their story is rewritten. Wieder Öffnen. Open again.
Relationships: Madame Blanc/Mother Suspiriorum, Susie Bannion/Madame Blanc
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe I’m back after so short time, yey! :D Well, this is all Luca Guadagnino’s fault. First I’ve to say I do not own any Suspiria (1997/2018) rights or characters.
> 
> The story follows the movie events, mainly. There are a few “fill in the gaps” and that’s totally on me – that’s the whole point of writing fanfiction, right? It’ll have 3 acts and an epilogue, so you’ll have to wait for the rest. As I said, the story is based on Suspiria (2018), but I also got inspiration from the first script (Dave Kajganich, 2016) that was thought for the movie aaaaand I also inquired about Pina Bausch’s life (Madam Blanc’s character is inspired by her), so yes, you may also recognize a few quotes by Pina. Regarding the myth of the Three Mothers I read the text of “Levana and our ladies of sorrow” from Thomas De Quincey. WOW, it’s beautiful, in case you haven’t checked it out, you totally should. Apparently Dario Argento based his three mothers universe in that tale.
> 
> Before I leave you to the story, I wanted to say a huge THANK YOU ♥ to my awesome beta-reader: Juniperwindsong. Without her, this story wouldn’t be out it the internet world. So, again, a big thank you.
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading the story as much I enjoyed writing it! If you do and feel like it, leave a review, it’s always a boost for the spirit. Constructive critiques are always welcome. 
> 
> xoxo,  
> Juli

* * *

**Act One**

**_HANDS_ **

The faint light of Madame Blanc’s private studio bathed the woman’s still long-limbed body, high carriage of a dancer; her energy grounded, open. Blanc looked tired.

Veva Blanc not only looked but she, indeed, felt tired. She couldn’t remember how long she had felt that way, but it was recently that her body had decided to express it: the lack of inspiration, the bad dreams or absence of proper sleep. It was the excruciating pain, which daily and ruthlessly tormented her hands, barely allowing her to move them, that tortured and scared her the most.

Recounting all her lives up to that time, Blanc realized she had always had a fetishism for hands. She thought some were beautiful, contrasting others that were impossible to look at; then there were a few that were ordinary, their existence almost insulting. For the wrong people, Blanc’s fetish could be called vanity, but she thought hands, hers and everyone’s, were a vital mean to express oneself into the world. She believed hands represented how someone’s character was forged, that was why lately most of her power was consumed in trying to heal her hands or at least try to prevent the pain from spreading through the rest of her body.

The struggle to play strong in front of the entire coven only affected her more. At last, the whole deal with Helena Markos started to wear her out. She had lost so many years… so many days, struggling to keep the dance academy going and to what end?

_To what end?_

There were very few of Blanc’s sisters that truly valued what she did as an artistic director and choreographer of the Markos Company. Even less that deeply, truly valued, respected and shared her understanding of the discipline. Most of them were only waiting for Helena Markos to return.

_With the purpose of what?_

Going over her steps through her years beside Markos, she couldn’t pinpoint the moment when her former mentor had lost sense of reality. When Blanc noticed Markos was serious about her plan to restore their lost reign, she thought it wise to keep her distance. Markos’ interest in the academy became null, all the weight falling upon Blanc’s shoulders; dealing with the war scenario didn’t help much and just as men had lost reason and were exterminating each other, Markos was going down the same path. It hurt and scared Blanc to hear the things Markos had to say about their coven and the others from around the world, how they could change the world once everyone was submitted to the power of the three mothers.

Blanc knew Markos was an ancient soul and, just as she did, the elder woman had known miseries, anguish, fears and the terrifying experience of war. So Blanc couldn’t understand why Markos deliberately wanted to inflict even more pain and destruction to their world. She thought they didn’t need to be more divided than they already were, Markosites and Blancites, but the disagreements and arguments didn’t take long to escalate. The inevitable result was division in the coven.

It was not a fight to exercise power, at least not for Blanc. She didn’t care about it. She cared about survival, art and dance –surviving while dancing, by expressing art. It wasn’t vanity as often Markos accused her off; it was Blanc’s choice of life, her own way of existing, witch or not. The only one she had come to know in this life. Dance and art had kept her alive through darker times, though not all of her sisters knew.

During World War II and after Helena Markos’ fatal mistake, Veva Blanc’s efforts and determination to preserve the company had been noticed by souls in need of guidance and it didn’t take long for the myths to begin. She had heard her pupils repeat senseless rumors of her so-called deeds and unsuccessfully tried to stop them.

> _She's tough. She kept the company alive through the war. When the Reich just wanted women to shut off their minds and keep their uteruses open, there was Blanc._

Some women of the coven had even found in her the figure of a leader. Her sisters knew she was definitely not one of the three mothers but they had found in Madame Blanc, as they commonly called her, someone who could understand their interests, advocate for them and, most of all, confront Markos and her followers in the pursuit of them.

Regrettably late, Blanc noticed her sisters saw her as someone who could defend them; the thought made her sick. Since she was reborn a witch, she had thought that a coven didn’t need a head. _A coven_ , not their dance academy –that was something entirely different. The Markos Company did require the structure of hierarchy. Blanc figured the confusion resided precisely on that point: was the coven The Markos Company? Or were they two different things that, in spite of being separate, were so deeply connected and entwined that coven and company kept, reciprocally, each other alive?

In regards to the coven, Blanc was convinced she and the others witches had been united since the beginning of times. She thought the idea of the coven represented different hands holding each other, beyond different countries, societies –hands holding through time.

When Markos took her in and told her of the existence of the three mothers, Blanc chose to hear part of it. She understood The Three had been only regular witches in whom covens from around the world put their faith in, to protect their sacred hunted family. Mother Suspiriorum, Mother Tenebrarum and Mother Lachrymarum were mythological names ordinary men had given to something they couldn’t understand.

Back to Blanc’s studio, she had started dancing, without noticing, through the circular room with all lacquered screens. The main focus on her hands, which had left the pain behind, entwining… making impossible forms to the inexistent music; her eyes were closed, trying to be aware of her whole self, feeling every beat, every breath, sound or movement. Blanc’s long arms extended and contracted with an easiness only a bird’s wing could match, her step so light her feet gave the impression of floating. She tried to pay more and more attention to the voice within her. Blanc had the feeling something was becoming purer and purer, deeper and deeper. Perhaps it was all in her mind. But a transformation was taking place. Not only with her body.

While she danced, Susie’s audition came to her mind.

The strange and inevitable pull she had felt while she was at rehearsal, as if invisible hands lead her to the White Studio. It had been Susie’s dance that had called her and had left Blanc with an inexplicable sensation since that day. In the quietness of her private studio, Blanc found the words that described it –the odd feeling. It presented to her in her native language.

_Wieder Öffnen._

That was what she had felt the moment Susie Bannion started her audition. The young woman’s sharp movements invaded her mind, her determined look, her rhythm. Madame Blanc could hear the beats, the music that wasn’t actually there. She felt it – _felt her_. She was blinded by the passion and dedication of Susie’s audition.

Blanc knew she was witness to something more. Susie’s performance was challenging her in a way she couldn’t comprehend. The girl’s experience was much older, her dedication and devotion didn´t come from the present. Blanc thought certain knowledge returned to her, which she always had but which was not conscious and present. The reason why Susie’s soul was been exposed –given away– to her right in that moment was unknown to Blanc.

“Flustered, are we?” Miss Tanner abruptly cut Blanc’s tranquility.

The younger woman stopped dead in her movements, turning violently to face Miss Tanner; her long hair caressing her soft skin at the sudden shift, it gave Blanc shivers. Her hands sent a sharp painful sensation through her spine, like they were somehow reproaching her Tanner’s interruption.

Madame Blanc _tsked_.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Veva? Haven’t you learned anything from Mother?”

Blanc perceived there was a hint of sadness in Miss Tanner’s voice. Maybe regret.

_Veva._

Blanc’s name sounded strange coming from Tanner, their sisters scarcely called her by her first name. Least of all Tanner, not after all they have been through, not since Markos tore them apart.

“I thought we agreed to stop using that title–”

“That’s not the point!” Tanner raised her voice, taking a step towards Blanc. While she did so the other woman took a step back. “You should have told her about Miss Bannion yourself. Now mother wants her. You must prepare her.”

“And does she– want the girl?” Blanc realized she was being unreasonably protective of Susie. The idea of Markos laying her deformed and stained hands on the girl made her sick. The idea of losing the undeniable connection they shared made Blanc miserably sad. Even though she wanted false hopes, she knew there weren’t any because as Tanner reminded her, the coven hadn’t chose her light to follow, but Markos.

“What if Sus– Miss Bannion doesn’t want Markos?” Blanc’s voice wasn’t as stoic as usual, it was almost imperceptible but a slight temblor tinged it. Her hands trembled as well. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We could–”

An energy coming from within surrounded Madame Blanc’s private studio.

“You tried once and you failed. Veva, don’t do this to yourself. She won’t forgive you again.”

_A protective charm._

Miss Tanner was shielding the room. Blanc felt her power increasing, suddenly tired of being told what she needed to do, think or behave. When she said the words, her voice came up sharply, almost unrecognizable; she was furious. Tanner took a step away, sensing the other woman’s hostile energy.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness. I n _ever_ asked for it.”

Something was pulsing to get in the protective sphere Tanner had created, both women felt it. Something dark. Dangerous, menacing. Helena Markos.

“I did what I felt was the right thing to do, for all us, and I’ll do it all over again. No matter what it costs me.”

Blanc’s blue eyes turned dark, the outrage she was feeling taking hold of her heart and mind. Entire existences to temper her personality weren’t enough to mitigate the rage and anger Markos made her feel. It infuriated Blanc how easy it was for Markos to steer those feelings up. For an instant, her vision was red and she couldn’t help but wonder how she managed to repress the urge to snap Miss Tanner neck.

_It’s not Tanner’s fault._

Blanc slowly forced herself to focus on Tanner again. If the other woman had said something else she couldn’t tell; trying to keep her anger under control consumed her whole attention. The instant she regained hold of herself, again the feeling of sadness invaded her.

“I’m sorry.” Tanner thought for Blanc to hear.

The image of a younger Veva Blanc standing in a pool of bright blood invaded Tanner’s memory. The girl was crying and Helena Markos was laughing as she menacingly circled her, speaking words Tanner couldn’t understand.

Blanc paid attention to the gesture Tanner did, she shook her head, as if in that way she could repress a memory that had crept on her mind. Tanner extended her hand to grab’s Madame Blanc’s.

“Don’t hurt yourself, try to stay safe. Mother will know.”

The dark force trying to step into the safe bubble finally broke Tanner’s spell at the same time Madame Blanc disdainfully removed her hand from Tanner’s tender grip.

“You can leave now, Miss Tanner.” Blanc coldly offered, joining her hands together in a shooting gesture, her voice stone cold, strong enough so Helena Markos could definitely hear her.

**…**

After the failed performance of Volk, Blanc was in her room, pacing from one side to the other. It took her a few moments to regain her composure. She needed a little bit of time to ease her mind before going to check on Susie.

Blanc felt momentarily relieved, but she knew one way or the other the Sabbath would take place. She knew it was stupid of herself to rejoice in that tiny sensation of hope.

A memory from several nights ago invaded her mind.

They had been working until late on Susie’s jumps in the Mirror Studio. Blanc had watched Susie closely, the urgent need to make sure the girl understood what was happening. Susie had jumped again, feeling a certain difference that time. It had been a crucial moment and Blanc knew it; if Susie backed away from what had happened, all was lost. But Susie had looked her in the eye and told her:

“Sometimes I only need to be told twice.”

Blanc remembered Susie’s smile, but she couldn’t match it because it also meant the young woman was accepting her role in Marko’s delusional plan, even though Susie didn’t know it.

“Why are you suddenly scared?” Susie had asked her, again closing the distance that separated them. But was prevented from taking Blanc’s hands when she took a step back instead of holding her ground.

Blanc was afraid of how easy it was for Susie to forget not only their age difference, but their place inside the company, the coven, and treat her like an equal. It scared her even more that she gave in to it with such ease. Since she met Susie, her actions were unexpected, nothing was planned. Blanc had no idea she could act the way she did around Susie, that she was capable of doing so. It just happened, without thinking. The closeness felt incredibly familiar, too appealing to even try to resist.

“I was a great shy girl.” Blanc started talking, as she walked away from the Mirror Studio, Susie following her behind, through dark and hidden corridors.

When they reached Blanc’s room through a hidden door on her private studio, she noticed Susie’s gaze followed her until she got lost behind the folding screen, taking down her grey dress. Wrapped up only in her Japanese silk tunic, Blanc took a place on her sofa, with her feet up and her back resting against its arm. Susie didn’t move.

“You asked me why I was suddenly scared.” Blanc started again, as she lighted up a cigarette. “You’re wrong though, Susie. I was not _suddenly_ scared, I was a great shy girl and I lived with a lot of fright… it is a feeling that I still have and that, in part, has been my engine. Fear moves.”

Blanc paused as she watched Susie come closer, taking a place opposite her on the sofa. Their feet barely touching.

“Fear moves. Fear creates because you want to invent a world where your ideas and dreams work.”

Blanc had frowned as she tried to read what was going on in Susie’s mind. The girl had looked at her in such a strange way, as if Blanc had spoken in French or German. It surprised Blanc. Susie had embraced her role for whatever was expected from her, without second thoughts or even being afraid of the unknown. 

“Are you not scared, Susie?”

“Of you?” Susie asked innocently, getting up and taking a seat on the table. Blanc was surprised when Susie took the cigarette from her hand and put it down on the ashtray, her touch lingering longer than necessary. Blanc turned sideways so she could face the young girl, then unconsciously nodded.

Again, and in less than a few hours of difference, Blanc didn’t put up resistance or feel taken aback when Susie naturally and softly laid a hand at the height of her heart, her eyes closed.

“Scared of you?” Susie had whispered. “No, Madame, I trust you.”

Again, the warmth Susie’s hands spread through her body was too familiar. Blanc didn’t need to look at them to know they were something entirely different.

*******


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to my awesome beta-reader Juniperwindsong ♥, for her patience and advice.
> 
> The story of the three sisters is all taken out from the text “Levana and Our Ladies of Sorrow” written by Thomas De Quincey. For this particular chapter, I recommend you to listen (on a loop) to this lovely melody while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9hHwTzaW8w. It’ll set the mood for one particular scene. It’s a tango, written by Carlos Gardel and Alfredo Le Pera but for the purpose of the story I only wanted the melody.
> 
> Again, hope you enjoy reading the story as much I enjoy writing it! Kudos and comments are always welcome, it’s always a writer’s boost; as well as constructive criticism. ENJOY! ♥
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Suspiria (1997/2018) rights or characters.

* * *

**Act two**

**_THE HEART/THE HEAD_ **

Susie Bannion felt mysteriously and inexplicably drawn to Madame Blanc.

The American girl knew her time at the dance academy was short but she sensed the connection with Blanc was not from the present or the occasional times she had managed to be alone with the academy’s artistic director. The pull seemed to come from a long time ago, even before personally meeting the woman. It was something ancient, rooted deep within her heart and mind and yet unaccountable to her.

Since Susie could remember, she had an inexplicable pull towards dance. Every time she danced, even when little, even in her audition to enter the Markos Company, time would stop, a certain sadness invading her heart as if someone was missing… like she wasn’t supposed to dance alone. 

_To live this life alone._

The yearning stopped the moment Veva Blanc leaked into her audition. Susie felt the sadness was still there, not completely gone, but it had lost its strength; it grew quiet, like it was considering taking a pause. To give Susie’s heart a rest.

After one of their rehearsals, Susie recalled feeling overwhelmed when Miss Tanner said Madame Blanc was expecting her for dinner. At first Susie was nervous, even more when Blanc chose to ask her about religion, but as they engaged in conversation –when they talked about dance– she felt at ease, the familiarity of the scene startled her but it felt right. She wouldn’t describe it as Sara did. _Addictive_ was not the word, it was like they had already shared those moments before. Blanc had asked her how her journey towards them began and Susie could swear she meant something else. The question was not about how she managed to go to the Martha Graham Center or Germany, to the Markos Company. The woman’s inquiry carried certain weight Susie couldn’t just understand.

> _“(…) I felt I had to see you.”_

The first time Susie had read about Volk and The Markos Company, a fire awoke in her heart. She could still perfectly recreate the image the old newspaper showed –it was a young woman with long hair, standing impeccably straight, bare foot, dressed in odd costume made out of red bondage rope. The young woman wasn’t smiling, her gaze seemed lost. Behind her, was an older woman with dark glasses, her wrinkled hands over the young woman’s shoulder. Susie had seen the gesture as protection, now, remembering, it felt more like the older woman, Helena Markos, owned the other woman.

Susie had felt the urge to go see the strange, eerie dancer with Trojan countenance and lost expression from across the ocean. Susie thought she must have known back then that the powerful sensation couldn’t just be her vocation calling. It was entirely something else. The sense of finding something lost was what she felt the instant Veva Blanc set foot on the stage of the Martha Graham Center, wearing the same costume she had seen it the newspaper. It was the same they used now. Blanc’s hair was not as long as she had it now, it was shorter and the darkest shade of brown, her eyes still deep blue. Susie thought back them they looked more friendly, as if they hadn’t seen any deception from life yet. The woman’s stance was the same though, arrogant but yet somehow humble; stoic, cold and yet warm.

When the intricate and dramatic choreography started, accompanied by the same music they dance to now, Susie had been in ecstasy. Reaching the climax, every time the lead dancer hit herself, too focused and deep in feeling every step of the choreography, Susie felt goosebumps. Back then she thought love was the word to describe what The Protagonist of Volk made her feel –now she knew it wasn’t love, the word too vain to describe them.

> _“(…) I felt I had to see you.”_

**…**

Time passed by and after a few weeks in the dance academy, the sadness in Susie’s heart was, at last, quietly sleeping but the sighs she had heard her entire life were louder than ever. An odd feeling she had learned to live with: to be with someone the entire time.

When she was admitted in the academy, the sighs told her the women of the company needed and wanted something from her and on the first night in the cold, imposing grey building, the strange and vivid dreams began.

Susie remembered one particular night the dreams had been extremely terrifying and the sighs so loud she ended up in front of Blanc’s bedroom door. She was agitated, debating whether she should knock and wake the woman up or go back to her room until the fear went away; her doubts didn’t last long though, covered in a long black kimono Blanc opened the door with a sleepy face. Susie had noticed the concern in her eyes but the older woman didn’t say a word, limiting herself only to letting the door open for Susie to step in.

“Do you want to talk or dance?” Blanc offered.

For a stupid second she thought of answering she needed and wanted a hug, the urge dissolving when she realized Blanc’s voice was in her mind. She doubted for a second, assigning her feeling to her fatigue and the fact that Blanc turned her back to close the door when she made the offer. Now Susie laughed at her memory.

“Dance.”

Madame Blanc turned to face her and with a soft tilt of her head indicating the way, Susie started walking to Blanc’s private studio. The lights of Blanc’s studios were on. Music, strange to Susie’s ears, came from the stereo, the melody so passionate and agonizing it almost made her cry. The music didn’t go with Blanc at all, it was peculiar, Susie thought.

Now Susie remembered her actions, but noticed she wasn’t conscious of them back then. She took off her sweater, not waiting for any instructions from Blanc, only her old shirt and worn-out short.

“Show me something new.”

Blanc approached Susie, mere inches apart, so close for a moment Susie thought the older woman was going to kiss her. She was a little disappointed when Blanc just knelt, taking the sweater and with extreme care sliding it through her arms and then over her head, every touch sending shivers through Susie’s spine.

“We don’t want you to catch a cold.”

When the sweater was back in place, and before taking a step back, Blanc took a strand of hair, settling it behind Susie’s ears. Blanc kept staring at her with an endearing expression, her eyes searching for any sign that could resemble an explanation to Susie’s behavior, but she didn’t get any.

“Close your eyes.” Madame Blanc ordered her, as she positioned herself behind Susie. “[The melody is a tango. Its name is _Por una cabeza._](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9hHwTzaW8w)”

The girl could hear Blanc’s soft breathing against her ear. Another language she didn’t know. What could it be?

“It’s Spanish, Susie.”

She felt something heavy falling over her eyes, it couldn’t be a blindfold; it felt cold. Susie tried to turn but Blanc’s hands on her back prevented her from doing so.

“Don’t. You wanted me to show you something new... but to fully understand it, you have to believe that dance is something other than technique.” Blanc started swirling them gently around her studio to the sound of the music. “You forget where the movements come from. They are born from life. Listen to the melody. I want you to trust your movements, your placement.”

Susie thought Blanc read her mind as she tenderly reassured her, the woman’s breath warm against her neck, “Don’t be afraid of it. Your feet know where to go.” She obliged, loosening up in the woman’s soft and deep voice and tender touch. Blanc hands took hers, her face nearly resting over Susie’s shoulder, guiding them with slow movements. Susie tensed again at the closeness but it only took her a little moment to get ahead of Blanc and make the same movements as the other woman did and relaxed –their bodies completely glued as if they were only one person dancing. Susie lost track of time, their bodies moving gracefully in unison to the strange melody. It felt beautiful, she could feel the energy Blanc emitted going through her entire body. They became the dance.

When the sound died, Susie noticed Blanc starting to move away, a sudden urge to stop it invaded her. She opened her eyes and turned to look her mentor in the eye and was surprised when she noticed Blanc’s tearful eyes. Instinctively, Susie took the woman’s hand, understanding Blanc deliberately had decided to show herself vulnerable. Madame Blanc repeated a question she had made not so long ago, Susie still remember it.

“When you were dancing, what did it feel like... inside you, inside your body?”

Susie took a step towards Blanc. Their bodies nearly touching again, only now they were facing each other. Without hesitation, Susie tilted her head up just enough for her lips to meet Blanc’s. It was not a kiss, their lips barely touching, but both felt gratified by the ephemeral and tender contact. Susie tasted something salty.

_A tear._

She couldn’t compare it to any other experience, but the sensation of Blanc’s cracked lips barely caressing hers sent a very heavy erotic charge through her body. It caught Susie off guard when Blanc took a step back, offering the cloth that had been covering her eyes, even though Susie knew the woman hadn’t placed it and therefore taken it off in the first place. She was positive the cloth had never covered her eyes, but she didn’t mention it.

**…**

Susie’s thoughts were interrupted when she felt Madame Blanc’s presence coming. Of course she would. She pictured Blanc’s face during the performance of Volk, when it tragically ended, Susie saw the hurt in the woman’s eyes but, contradictory, she saw relief as well.

From the moment they shared in the Mirror Studio practicing the jumps, and their dance together, Susie had accepted the fact that whatever the company needed of her, she would provide. She thought it would make Blanc happy, or at least give her peace, but as she embraced the role, Susie noticed the growing sadness in Blanc’s eyes.

**…**

Susie’s grip grew stronger on Madame Blanc’s hand when she tried to get up from bed. The spell hadn’t worked out and Blanc didn’t look surprised, making Susie wonder why.

“Don’t,” Susie thought for Blanc to hear. “Stay and explain it to me. Please.”

Susie waited a few moments but neither words nor thoughts came from Madame Blanc. Susie knew she had the right to know. Since she set foot in the academy, Susie felt something else had awakened within her; the sighs that had accompanied her entire life, grew stronger each day. It felt as though they were nearly finishing its cycle.

Even before her performance of Volk, she recognized the coven behind the company, but she knew she wasn’t part of it. She was only a conduit; not to Blanc though. Susie felt accepted as a peer by the woman.

At Blanc’s deliberate silence, Susie tenderly kissed the woman’s hand, her lips lingering for as long as they could. She heard Blanc catching her breath… vivid images invaded Susie’s mind as did Blanc’s.

They met each other time after time, life after life. They saw how their relationship grew stronger each time. They had possessed different bodies, sexes and genders, sometimes a woman, sometimes man. Some both and none at all. Then dying, time and time again. The heartache and tragic ending forever present, divergent each time, yet with the same result: death.

> _“There will be nothing of you_ _left inside. Only space for me.”_

When she lifted her lips from Blanc’s hand she felt it –the sadness covering her heart once more. She didn’t say anything regarding what she had seen and what Blanc probably must have seen as well. Susie gave time to the older woman to try to explain everything, or what Blanc could, to her.

*******

Madame Blanc averted her eyes from her hand that was gently caressing Susie’s cheek and looked the girl in the eye, giving her a halfhearted smiled as if what she was about to tell Susie physically hurt her. Blanc deliberately omitted one detail –her soul couldn’t endure any more ache.

> _“There will be nothing of you_ _left inside. Only space for me.”_

The instant Blanc tried to establish their telepathic connection, Susie’s face scrunched up in pain. The reaction worried her; Susie tried to disguise it but Blanc noticed. It didn’t surprise Blanc, these changes in Susie; for a moment the young girl seemed a witch born ages ago; the next, right after, she felt pain when Blanc tried to enter her mind.

Susie’s hands were still grabbing hers, keeping them over her chest, where the heart is supposed to be.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

“Markos claims to be one of the Three.”

Susie had heard the myth of the Three Mothers from Sara, but she listened to Blanc’s tale. Veva Blanc explained that men had given the three sisters the names of Mother Suspiriorum, Mother Tenebrarum and Mother Lachrymarum.

“Darkness, Tears and Sighs,” the older woman said out loud, making the grip on Susie’s hand a little tighter. “Men believe they represent Death.”

Blanc mentioned in a sarcastic tone that the same men also had found the symbolism of the number three in almost everything –it had been British Thomas De Quincey who created the tale. Susie frowned, so she deepened the explanation.

“In Greek mythology, Susie, The _Sorrows_ , as the _Graces,_ are three. The _Parcae_ are again three; the Furies are three as well. Even the Muses are but three, who fit the harp, the trumpet, or the lute.”

**…**

Susie looked fascinated at Madame Blanc as she told her the story. the way she used her voice and her hands to express mystery, contempt or disbelief amazed her, the woman’s voice was delicate and captivating.

Susie moved, her back resting entirely against the bed’s headboard, nearer to Blanc. The woman barely noticed Susie’s hand resting over her legs.

_Familiarity_. Susie thought again.

As if they had already shared night talks before.

*******

Blanc explained the British writer had called those so-called entities _Our Ladies of Sorrow_ , who learned to impersonate humans and dress like them, but the ladies disdained the infirmities of language. In that moment, Blanc looked intensely at Susie, waiting for the girl to catch up.

“Oh.”

“See?” Blanc thought. There was no pain in that connection, but she chose to continue out loud. “An ability interpreted as disdain, to the renowned author, we only use our voices when we dwell in human hearts.”

Blanc then did something that made Susie laugh: she mimicked the “and I quote” expression and with a solemn voice spoke: “Amongst themselves is no voice nor sound; eternal silence reigns in _their_ kingdoms.” 

Blanc kept on explaining. The eldest of the three was _Mater Lachrymarum_.

“Our Lady of Tears.”

Blanc explained to Susie that according to De Quincey, Lachrymarum was the night and day raves and moans, who called for vanished faces; her eyes were sweet and subtle, wild and sleepy, by turns; oftentimes rising to the clouds, oftentimes challenging the heavens. She wears a diadem round her head.

“The man wrote she could go abroad upon the winds, every time she heard the sobbing of litanies or when she beheld the mustering of summer clouds. She also carried keys more than papal at her girdle, which could open every cottage and palace. De Quincey said that by the power of her keys, Lachrymarum glides, a ghostly intruder, into the chambers of sleepless men, sleepless women, sleepless children, from Ganges to the Nile, from Nile to Mississippi. And because she was the first−born of her house, and apparently had the widest empire, the author honored her with the title of –”

“Madonna,” Susie interrupted Blanc, the description of Lachrymarum too acquainted to her. If Blanc was shocked by Susie’s intervention, she did not mention it. The woman kept on explaining.

The second sister was _Mater Suspiriorum_.

“Our Lady of Sighs.”

**…**

Once again, Susie’s hands were over Blanc’s tracing meaningless patterns over them. Susie didn’t mention it, but as Blanc described Mother Suspiriorum she pictured herself as the second sister, only older… with a visible scar in the middle of her chest.

Blanc explained the author wrote that Suspiriorum never escalated the clouds or walked abroad upon the winds; unlike Lachrymarum, she didn’t wear a diadem and her eyes, if they were ever seen, would be neither sweet nor subtle; no man could read their story; they would be found filled with perishing dreams, and with wrecks of forgotten delirium. But she raises not her eyes; her head, on which sits a dilapidated turban, droops forever, forever fastened on the dust.

_“She weeps not. She groans not. But she sighs inaudibly at intervals,”_ Susie thought to herself, as if she had read De Quincey before. “ _Madonna is oftentimes stormy and frantic, raging in the highest against heaven and demanding back her darlings. But Our Lady of Sighs never clamors, never defies, dreams not of rebellious aspirations. She is humble to abjectness. Hers is the meekness that belongs to the hopeless. Murmur she may, but it is in her sleep. Whisper she may, but it is to herself in the twilight. Mutter she does at times, but it is in solitary places that are desolate as she is desolate, in ruined cities, and when the sun has gone down to his rest.”_

Susie noticed Blanc’s voice calling her, the woman’s soft hands over her forehead checking if she was okay. Susie blinked coming back to their present moment.

“What about the third sister?” Susie asked, trying her best to divert Blanc’s attention from herself and back to the story. She noticed the older women doubting whether to continue, but she obliged.

The youngest of the three sisters, was Tenebrarum. Blanc told her that De Quincey had described her kingdom as not large; but within this kingdom, all power was hers.

“To our dear and imaginative Thomas, Tenebrarum was the defier of God, mother of lunacies and suggestress of suicides. He described Tenebrarum as a reincarnation of the evil. She had huge power but limited, for it is said she can approach only those in whom a profound nature has been upheaved by central convulsions; in whom the heart trembles and the brain rocks under conspiracies of tempest from without and tempest from within. Quite a story.”

Susie found herself in Blanc’s arms, the older woman caressing her hair. Apparently she started crying at some point but couldn’t remember where.

“Markos claims to be Suspiriorum.” Susie thought and Blanc just nodded, neither of them willing to break the incredible intimate environment they had created.

***

Madame Blanc was entirely sure Helena Markos was not Mother Suspiriorum, and that there hadn’t been any mothers at all.

Blanc didn’t know, but Susie agreed with her. Helena Markos was not Mother Suspiriorum. However, the sighs told Susie Veva Blanc was partially wrong. The sisters, renamed mothers, did exist.

Although Madame Blanc couldn’t hear them, in Susie’s heart and head the sighs were more present and louder than ever.

The time had come.

***


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I would like to say a big thank you to my awesome beta-reader: Juniperwindsong ♥.
> 
> The next act would be the last, the epilogue. Hope you enjoy reading the story as much I enjoy writing it! I cannot believe I actually will be finishing this. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome, it’s always a writer’s boost; as well as constructive criticism. ENJOY! 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I do not own any Suspiria (1997/2018) rights or characters.

* * *

**Act Three**

**_EPIPHANY_ **

Several days went by after Volk’s performance. The Markos Company was hard at work rehearsing Madame Blanc’s new piece: _Wieder Öffnen._ Each practice-session Blanc pushed Susie, as well as the others, very hard.

The piece under construction was remarkable. This time there was no protagonist in the dance. Instead, it had five equal main parts and an equal number of secondary parts. The choreography gave the feeling of an entire community shattered, but still functioning.

Susie’s dance and technique were astonishing to watch, violent and beautiful.

“ _Vous ne me laissez pas choisir. Parce que tu m'aimes._ ”

As she exhaled the cigarette smoke, her eyes fixed but not seeing Susie, Blanc meditated how troubling and frightening it was for her what Susie, so easily and without any piece of guilt, remorse or shame, could speak out. She knew the young girl had fully accepted and embraced the free radical role, not only in their new choreography but in Markos’ plan as well.

Susie and Blanc regularly stole private moments with each other. It was difficult to engage in conversation during practice breaks; Tanner was looming over them, probably making sure Blanc wouldn’t interfere with Helena Markos’ plan.

Indeed, it was all a mess, especially the one in _here_ , between them.

**…**

One afternoon, Blanc didn’t show up to their daily rehearsals, so after taking a shower Susie went after her.

Without knocking, Susie went into her mentor’s bedroom where Blanc was sitting on her unraveled bed, too submerged in drawings and notes she had unfolded over it. She was slightly disheveled –her Japanese kimono not entirely arranged, letting the bare skin of her chest show–, her hair was a mess as well, not entirely dry, dripping over the bed sheet. Something was completely off with her.

Blanc didn’t bother raising her eyes from what she was doing. Susie took the hairbrush from the bed and sat behind her. The older woman didn’t protest, just started drawing new forms as Susie delicately attended to her hair. It was ordinary for them to share those kind of moments, enjoying each other’s presence without the need to say anything at all.

“I was worried when you didn’t show up in classes. Miss Tanner said you were feeling ill.”

Madame Blanc nearly responded, but finally decided against it. Tanner’s announcement during rehearsal hunted her mind.

_Heute Nacht. Es muss heute Abend passieren._

Susie may be ready, but Blanc was not. Every moment they shared, the woman was a little bit further from accepting with resignation Markos’ plan or letting the matter go.

“Sorry?” Blanc kindly offered, apologetic, giving Susie a quick glance, trying her best to focus on what the girl was saying, but her mind was elsewhere. In spite of her attempt, the second the apology left her lips, her attention was back to the drawings and notes.

But Susie knew what to ask to regain the woman’s attention.

“What’s does _koldunya_ mean?” Susie inquired while braiding Madame Blanc’s hair. The woman tensed at her question but didn’t speak up, she kept on drawing but thought for Susie to hear.

“ _Witch._ ”

Susie debated whether to continue the conversation, Blanc seemed to be miles away from the present moment.

“As in insult?” Blanc shook her head. “Then why were you so upset when Olga said the word?” As she spoke, Susie rolled to the other side of Blanc’s bed, making herself comfortable. The women shook her head, in a discontented gesture that time, and, again, chose not to answer. “When am I going to meet Helena Markos?”

Silence. Blanc let out an exasperated sigh. So uncharacteristic of her, Susie thought, but then, she was pushing.

“Are you mad–” Susie turned to the end of the bed and tried to catch Blanc’s pencil but she abruptly rose up from the bed.

“Now you are being childish.” Madame Blanc said dryly, as she threw the sketch and pencil to the floor, starting to pace, barefoot, from one side of the room to the other, trying to ease her temper. “You shouldn’t be here, Susie, and you know it. You’re just making things harder, especially on me. Markos…. I don’t really want to talk about her.”

Susie went to Blanc; the other woman tried to avoid the contact, but Susie grabbed Blanc’s hands firmly with hers.

“What’s wrong?”

“You don’t get it. Do you?” Blanc burst, raising her voice. It was so out of character, Susie thought. The woman seemed to be at the edge of breaking point. “It’s happening tonight.”

A pause.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Susie gave her a strange look; she didn’t understand why Blanc was so distraught for whatever was going to happen. But one thing she knew, is that she would give anything to restore Blanc’s peace.

Slowly, Blanc brought Susie’s hands to her lips and gave them a faint kiss, enveloping her with her delicate arms in a heartfelt embrace, like she was holding a bird.

_“Je suis désolé. Je ne peux pas te protéger. Pardonne moi s'il te plaît_ , sweetheart. _”_

Then she took a step back but didn’t let go. Instead the woman’s delicate hands took Susie’s face and looked her intensely in the eye, laying another soft kiss on her forehead.

“It’s seems like you are saying goodbye. Why?” Susie asked, not moving, feeling slightly dizzy and taken aback by Blanc’s sudden display of affection. “What’s going on?”

Madame Blanc didn’t speak, instead she gently kissed each of Susie’s closed eyes, then each cheek and her collarbone; her hands rested on her shoulders and went down her arms, elbows, torso and the length of her legs until Blanc was kneeling, surrendered to Susie’s feet, giving each of them one delicate touch from her lips. Prideful and arrogant Madame Blanc suddenly seemed small and fragile.

“Ich liebe dich wirklich und dafür werde ich verdammt sein.” Blanc thought in her mother tongue.

German was a strange language for Susie, but the tone of Blanc’s voice was not, whatever the woman had said, related to love and the certainty of knowing the loss of someone dear was imminent. It also felt like a declaration of love.

Quietly, Susie lowered herself to Blanc’s level and took the woman’s chin with her hands, forcing her to raise her head, then caressed Blanc’s cheek. Susie didn’t speak it out, but the gesture was sufficient. She helped Blanc on her feet and led her to bed, lying beside her, their bodies sideways, facing each other, their hands still entwined.

They looked each other in their eyes, not emitting any words… until Blanc’s eyes grew tired, falling peacefully asleep.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Susie whispered the promise, but Blanc didn’t hear. She kept contemplating the woman’s calm face until she fell asleep as well.

**…**

Later that same night, when Blanc woke up, Susie was gone; waiting for her to gain consciousness was Miss Tanner.

“It’s time, Veva. The girls and the rest of us are waiting for you, so it’s the people from the restaurant… but first Mother wants to see you.”

Reluctantly, Blanc got up from bed, missing Susie’s warm company and dressed. She could have argued, but she was in no mood to fight Tanner.

“You can go now, Miss Tanner.”

While going down stairs to find Markos, Blanc came across Susie and the rest of the dancers, but she walked past them, she heard how they whispered to Susie if “Madame Blanc was okay or what was happening to her”, true concern in the girls’ voices. It was the first time Blanc noticed they care about her.

_Too late to notice, again._

**…**

“Is everything ready? The girl.”

Blanc couldn’t disguise the look of rejection and disdain at the sight of what was left of Helena Markos, a bent woman, misshapen with disease.

“Oh. I know what it must feel like for you, Veva. But believe me, when it’s done, I’ll come willingly to your bed and help you ease your sexual appetite. You won’t have to by pining-”

“ _Unsinn!”_ Madame Blanc yelled, her temper unleashed. “I didn’t come here to hear this outrageous nonsense, Markos. The girl is ready. You will have it and then I’ll be out of here. _For good._ ”

Markos laughed, making Blanc even more enraged. She turned to leave, but Markos grabbed the woman’s wrist, causing an abrupt halt in the younger woman’s movements.

“You don’t fool me, Blanc, I know you care. Don’t turn your back on me _._ ”

“Don’t you dare touch me _ever_ again,” Blanc warned, violently slapping Markos’ hand away, raising her hand in a defensive stance.

“Or what?” Markos said as she took something from behind her wheelchair.

Blanc didn’t have to see it, she felt it when the rotten woman made a squeeze gesture and a disgusting noise reached her ears, like crushing a living animal. A ghoulish smile plastered on her face. Blanc bent at Markos’ action, the sudden pain made her instinctively clutch her chest with trembling hands but refraining from letting any cry of pain to escape her lips.

“Go, and enjoy your last meal with your _paramour_. Don’t force me to kill you just yet.”

**…**

Everyone at the restaurant seemed to be oblivious of what was going to happen in a few hours, except for Susie and Madame Blanc.

Since Sara’s departure Susie had not been absorbed into any cliques, her partners had experienced a shift in attitude about her; she knew she was with the group, but not of it anymore. Susie believed it was for the closeness she shared with Madame Blanc. She was part of the Markos Company, but not of coven… she was superior to her partners but not regarding the matrons. Where she felt safe and at ease, was with Blanc. With her, there were no positions or hierarchy to respect.

When she went to Blanc’s bedroom earlier that afternoon, Susie knew that night was meant to be the night for whatever was going to be asked of her. She inexplicably knew it, even before Blanc, inconsolably, confirmed it. 

As dinner unfolded, the breathing in Susie’s head was growing louder. Unable to endure Blanc’s worried look, Susie thought for her to listen.

“I’ll go walk in the streets.”

Blanc looked at her as if she might cry. She wanted to tell Susie they could disappear together, even start another dance academy in another country, far away. After a beat, her thoughts responded; her voice tinged with shame and pain.

“If you’re sure. Give us time. There is much to be done.”

**…**

Susie walked, taking in the early stirring of Berlin nightlife.

As she walked, the breathing was with her, but something odd began happening as well. Her awareness began to focus on little moments of sadness or aggression, mixed with images from her past lives. Susie went forward and backward in time.

Susie was not afraid of what she was seeing or of where it belonged in history. Once she adjusted to it, she walked, flushed and amazed, through these mirages as if through a great museum, humbled by her proximity to things that delighted her.

When she reached the Markos Company building, she found it empty and silent. She came into her room to find, laid out on her bed, a long, simple black shift dress.

_Veva._

As she was putting it on, the light wavered outside her door and she saw the small font of white flame there, waiting.

**...**

Through secret stairs and rooms, Susie found her way into the Mutterhaus, led by the white flame. Beyond it, there were more stairs, but all the light and noise came from below.

Susie came down a set of stairs that lead to another. The first was part of the building, but the second–

She saw Blanc standing on one side of the final staircase and on the other, Miss Tanner was standing beside what could only be Helena Markos.

The old woman was hard to look at, weighed down and disfigured by tumors. Some lay flat, others raised up on stalks like warts. She was a horrific vision of age on a human form, not the normal way age treated the body, but the product of time being turned back again and again until the skin and tissue cannot hold so many contradictions.

Helena Markos was looking at Susie as well, studying her.

“I’m ready, Madame.” Blanc nodded, but didn't respond. Susie said to her directly, “You look afraid.”

Markos laughed, the sound of amused air climbing past whatever tumors lie within her was disgusting.

“She’s afraid for you! There’ll be nothing of you left inside. Only space. For me.”

Susie knew she was not going to die; Helena Markos was completely wrong. Were the scene another, she probably might have laughed at the woman’s mediocrity. If the torment in Madame Blanc’s eyes weren’t there, she would have laughed.

The instant she entered the ancient room, the sighs finally came clear. Susie understood it was her moment to be reborn, to completely wake up the witch that had been sleeping within her. She almost felt home, finally, part of the coven. Madame Blanc had been right about a few things in her take on the story of the three sisters. They were not mythological creatures; they had been and were ordinary witches… being reborn such as any another witch would.

Susie was experiencing a war within her. The memories of this life blending with the ones from of all of her past lives; her magic, finally released, was sending incredible sensations to every inch of her body. She tried to find Madame Blanc eyes, trying to let her know everything would be okay, but the other woman was afraid beyond reason to notice Susie’s intention.

Blanc was caught up trying to prevent the ritual, the fear of what was about to happen to Susie clouded her sense and sensibility.

Due to the amount of sensations her body and mind were experiencing, it was impossible for Susie to try to establish their telepathic connection; being aware of all the times she had been born up until that moment, it was overwhelming. Susie confirmed Madame Blanc’s soul had always been along… It broke her heart to witness such distress from the elder woman and not be able to put an end to it.

“I came here for this. You’ve all waited long enough.”

Markos gave Susie a lascivious look, what the woman had been waiting for since a time Susie didn’t know was finally happening. Susie paid attention to Markos’ labored breathing. They were not the sighs she had had in her head all that time. Markos’ sighs spoke only of illness, not of the entire language Susie had been hearing within the sighs.

“And did you come here willingly?”

Blanc stepped forward. Markos held her with a look but couldn’t stop the woman from speaking up.

“You must have no doubts, Susie. If you do, I can take _you_ back. I can take all of this from your head. You can forget everything,” she almost begged to Susie, and then addressed Markos directly, “I want this to be pure.”

Madame Blanc’s display of devotion, not caring about any another presence in the room, nearly tore Susie apart; she was deeply moved by the love Blanc professed. Susie now understood the despair and fear of losing that were manifesting in that moment were an accumulation of all of their losses –their love doomed to failure.

“We all know what _you_ want.”

Helena Markos’ vulgar accusation made Susie furious, her blood and magic boiling up, but tempered by Suspiriorum experience, she restrained from answering.

As she quietly contemplated the scene developing, Susie thought Markos could never understand Veva Blanc’s character; not in a hundreds lives.

Over the time in the academy, Susie learned of Blanc’s efforts not to be fully aware of herself; with all of the memories from past lives now revealed to her, Susie knew it had been something ever so present in the woman’s life. But in spite of the struggle, she knew Blanc was driven by any emotion but vanity. Fear, love, hatred, her struggle was to control each feeling and not to let them overpower her.

The voice of present Blanc echoed in Susie’s absent mind, Suspiriorum trying to fully take place.

“No, there is something wrong here. Can you not feel it? This is not right. We have to stop this now.” Blanc turned to face the ritual, her long dress violently moving as she raised her slender hand into the air.

With difficulty Markos rose from her wheelchair, the woman was fed up.

“We have been on two sides of this for too long now!” and with a gesture, Markos made a dash with her hand out at Blanc.

The last conscious moment before Suspiriorum took her place, Susie saw how Blanc’s neck was being chopped from behind. The hideous noise rumbled in her ears, immediately followed by a gruesome blood explosion. Blanc crumbled to her knees. Markos had severed her spine, but not her trachea, the woman’s head slid forward until it was stopped by her chest… and she sat there, face cast downward.

“If you accept me, you must put down the woman who bore you. Think of that false mother now. Reject her, expel her. You have the only Mother you need here.” As if nothing had happened and Blanc’s life meant nothing to her, Markos kept talking. “Death to any other mother. Say it!”

The look of horror in Helena Markos’ face at the sight of the dark entity didn’t compensate for the loss of Blanc, but it felt gratifying to let the rotten women know her place.

“Who are you?” the woman asked in fear.

Helena Markos was no mother, nor sister. She was an impostor and all of the women who had followed and fed her delusions would die.

“For whom were you anointed? Which of the Three mothers?”

“Mother… Mother Suspiriorum.”

The seal inside Susie’s mind and body finally broke completely.

“I am she.”

**…**

After the massacre, the sighs in Susie’s mind were starting to grow quieter. The violent awakening of her magic was coming to an end, with the little strength she had left, Susie led Suspiriorum to where Blanc was struggling to breath, hugging herself, as if in doing so she could stop the pain she was feeling.

Once again, Susie found herself lovingly touching the woman’s cheek. She wanted to tell Blanc she had loved her since the beginning of time, but the word seemed so small and insignificant, almost insulting to what they actually felt for each other –to call their connection love, that was vanity Susie thought. What they, without knowing, had accepted to choose every new life was greater, deeper. Words couldn’t describe it.

It was Suspiriorum who spoke.

“What do you ask, _chère_?”

At the loving nickname, Blanc tried to move her head, searching for Susie in Suspiriorum brown eyes and she felt deeply relieved when proven she was still there… Susie was there and Blanc realized she was dying.

Once again, wrong timing.

“Death,” Blanc thought, unable to speak out, the falling tears clouded her vision.

Tears from the sadness of the wrecked coven Markos’s stupidity had left behind. Tears for Markos too, because a long, long time ago she had not only welcomed her to the company but the coven as well, and guided her like a mother would do for her daughter.

But above all, Blanc cried for the dance, for Susie and for what could have been and would never be, because she, and Markos, knew that was her last existence.

*******


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! And for the last time… until I come back with another story, of course. 
> 
> The final chapter is here. It’s an odd feeling to actually finish a story that has multiple chapters. I must say it never happened to me before. I got a few skeletons in the closet, that meaning OUAT and Holby City stories that may be never completed. Well, guess Suspiria inspired me to get til the end. 
> 
> This last chapter has a few quotes by the awesome and talented Pina Bausch, which you can find here: http://www.pina-bausch.de/en/pina/speeches/ 
> 
> Last but not less important, I would like to thank Juniperwindsong, my awesome beta-reader. If it weren’t for her, this story might’ve never been posted… so again, THANK YOU. I really look forward to keep working with you. ♥
> 
> I know we are a small fandom so, to boost the spirit, if you enjoy reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it and you feel like it, leave a review, kudos, constructive critiques, etc. It’s always a coddle for the spirit.

* * *

**Epilogue**

**_WIEDER ÖFFNEN_ **

After the Sabbath events, both coven and dance academy were quiet, unsure of what to do or what would come next.

The witches Suspiriorum left alive were trying to keep the academy going, worried for what would happen to Madame Blanc, the only person who could stand up to Helena Markos and who had paid the ultimate price. The remaining matrons were also afraid of Susie's revelation and were already submitted to Miss Tanner’s instructions. Maybe out of guilt, Tanner had taken the initiative to move forward. Madame Blanc's new piece, _Wieder Öffnen_ , was happening.

The young dancers, oblivious of what had happened, were eager to keep on practising, their only concern was the sudden and temporary notice of Blanc's retirement due to health issues. But the piece kept them busy.

Wieder Öffnen gave the feeling of an entire community shattered, but still functioning. Miss Tanner found its meaning by secretly revising Madame Blanc's note. The choreography was a co-biography built collectively with her dancers. Blanc was capable of mapping the most universal miseries and fears; in an unreasoned, but embodied way that was what the piece was about. The hopelessness and the anguish mounted on stage in a sort of rhythmic and shared catharsis from the body experience, seeking connection with the world, and support in others, to calm suffering and cure trauma. To calm Blanc’s suffering and cure Blanc’s trauma, Tanner thought with bitter remorse.

She also remembered Blanc’s saying that human drama was what binds us all together.

**…**

It had been over two weeks since the Suspiriorum revelation and Madame Blanc kept coming in and out of consciousness, not entirely awake yet. The damage Markos had inflicted upon her body was far worse than Susie and the rest of the matrons had thought. If it weren't for Miss Tanner and Miss Vendegast’s help, and magic, Susie could have never healed Blanc… the potential power of Suspiriorum consumed completely by the ritual. 

Susie sat at the edge of Madame Blanc's bed, tenderly caressing the woman's hand. In her visits, Susie told Blanc of the lives they had shared; she wasn't entirely sure Blanc could hear her, but she wasn't convinced of the opposite, so she kept on telling their stories. It also helped Susie to ease her mind.

"Please, Veva, wake up," Susie begged against Blanc's ear and as if the woman had heard her pleas, she opened her eyes.

Susie was startled at first, but the instant she saw panic in Blanc’s blue eyes her soft hands against the woman’s chest prevented her from getting up and in doing so hurting herself. 

“Don’t move. Everything will be just fine, have faith in me,” Susie thought while she gave Blanc her warmest smile.

Blanc didn't speak or think, too astonished to even try to form an idea of what had happened. Or how could Susie know what was going on her mind when, as in an echo, she repeated the same words Blanc said to the young girl the night of Volk's performance.

_“Ferme les yeux. Ce soir, vous ne rêverez pas._ _Fais moi confiance. ”_

Susie’s French was getting better, Blanc thought although she couldn’t voice it outloud. She could only give a little smile that Susie didn’t understand, but she didn’t have to.

**…**

Madame Blanc vainly struggled to keep conscious, the pain her body and soul experienced was too much to endure for the moment. She felt Susie’s energy by her side and Tanner’s as well.

_How much time passed since the Sabbath?_

Blanc dreamt of the three mothers many times… Lachrymarum, Tenebrarum and Suspiriorum. She dreamt of the witche’s palaces. She saw a younger version of herself arriving in New York, then in Rome. In the dream, Blanc understood her mission was to try to find the missing sisters, but every time she got to their households and waited for someone to open, it was always Helena Markos who came to the door. The woman was younger, it was not the corrupted and rotten shadow she had become. Markos even smiled every time she opened the door for Blanc. She didn't greet her, though. Instead, when her lips moved, it was Susie's voice, hardly above a whisper, that came up saying: _Fais moi confiance._

In the middle of dreams or some of her conscious moments, Susie’s soft voice invaded her mind. Blanc was so grateful to hear it, she hadn't realized until that very moment how pleasant the sound was. She couldn't speak yet, but her eyes, full of love and endearment, meant all. Over time, they learned that, sometimes, words were not needed. Susie didn't need to hear it out loud, she just knew.

“You know, Mother Suspiriorum wasn’t entirely a myth.”

_How am I still alive?_

“You were right about one thing, though. It is not about richness or power… I’m Suspiriorum and Susie, still. Suspiriorum was my magic trying to unleash itself. We reborn again thanks to you. I received the _coup de foudre._ ”

Questions could wait. Blanc smiled at Susie’s honesty and closed her eyes, giving in one more time to the pain.

**...**

The days kept passing by and slowly Madame Blanc was regaining her energy and health. She still couldn't leave her room, sometimes her headaches due to her injury were unbearable, and rehabilitation walks, even softened by her magic, were extremely painful.

"Are you feeling better?" Susie asked as she seated herself on the sofa, right next to an agitated Blanc, taking the woman's hands in hers, giving them a soft peck. Blanc smiled at the warm contact.

“I am now, Susie.” Blanc’s voice was raspy, her body hadn’t healed completely but at least she could take a few steps, sit down for few moments, until the pain demanded to be lying in bed again.

“Let me help you with your hair,” Susie offered and braided it.

They remained in silence for quite some time, softly caressing each other hands. Until Susie spoke up.

“I have something for you.”

Blanc was confused when Susie bent down and took from her purse a small carved black box. Susie's hands trembled a little, the young girl was nervous.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

“I think this belongs to you.”

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

Blanc gasped when she saw the content. She dared not to ask, instead, she fully embraced the instant they were living in.

Susie delicately took the heart from the box, ever so gently, one could think it was made of glass, and offered it to Blanc. At the gesture, Blanc's eyes filled with tears, but her hands didn't move. Too afraid any movement could erase the moment. Susie understood the woman was afraid, and with the same delicacy she took Blanc's hands and, positioned below hers, started to let the heart pass gently into Blanc's hands. Once it was done, Susie didn't let go of the woman's hands.

The touch was a comfort so intimate Blanc had to wrestle her urge to pull away. Instead, both women stared at the beating organ. It was strange, but neither of them was affected or impressed by it as if they had seen human hearts regularly.

"Are you ready?" Susie asked lovingly, making reassuring eye contact.

Blanc nodded and with a swift move Susie put her hand, and also Blanc's, inside the woman's chest. At the invasion Blanc gasped; it hurt and it felt odd to have her heart actually beating inside her. She couldn't remember how long she had lived without it.

Susie took their hands out but let them rest against Blanc's chest. Blanc started crying freely, her feelings and even her magic powered by the presence of her heart. She was stunned by the intensity of her feelings, of being completely aware of the love she felt for Susie.

“Danke, Schatz,” Blanc spoke in her mother tongue, without thinking it. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She then repeated in English for Susie to fully understand.

Susie kissed the corner of her mouth, ever so close to the woman's lips.

Blanc closed the distance between them, resting their foreheads together. She was ready to let her feelings show with any strings attached. After all, sometimes, one can only clarify something by confronting oneself with what one doesn't know. Sometimes the answers one has bring us back to experiences which are much older, that not only deal with the here and now. It was, as if a certain knowledge, certain feeling, returned to them, which they indeed always had, but which was not entirely conscious and present.

It reminded them of something… love.

**…**

As Susie rested her head over Blanc’s chest, she caressed the girl’s hair. The beating heart of Madame Blanc soothed Susie.

After debating herself, Susie took Blanc’s other hand and guided it to her own chest, to the scar that now existed on it.

“Listen,” she thought.

Veva’s attention was sharper. She could hear the sighs that, apart from hers and Susie’s, invaded the room.

What joy it was to learn to distinguish between voices. To listen very exactly. The sighs from witches of all times and places. It was not scary, it was comforting –not to be alone. But again… she never had been. Susie's soul had been with her all along and this time destiny changed. Destiny was not a dead-end filled with despair and loss. Destiny had changed, it was _open again_.

*******


End file.
